


Like A Neon Light

by iDiru



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Adultery, Anal Sex, Angst, Danneel and Vicki are merely mentioned not actual characters, Denial, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen gets a call from Misha one night that sends their relationship on a road down more than friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Neon Light

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written Cockles like ever except for RPing it with a friend. I don't know too much about timelines, or acting, or how shit works, but I tried God damn it.

                He had a smile that could light up a room and a persona that shined like a neon light through the darkness of normalcy. He drew in the crowd like a flame drew moths. He attracted attention by existence alone; he attracted fans, like he had attracted him. Even as a man who seemed happy with his life a majority of the time, there were still times when that wasn’t enough. He was a man who still needed love and comfort. A man who would still call him late at night because he was lonely; because his voice sounded like home. That’s how it had started; or rather, that’s when Jensen started noticing.

 

                Jensen had worked with him for a while, now; getting used to his quirks and his odd charm. There was that annoying little flutter of happiness in his stomach when he was around, but he attributed it to friendship. But it began to change the night he called. The night he was lying awake, unable to sleep again when his cellphone wrung. At the time it was odd; something unusual and startling, and even more so when the name came across his caller I.D. He had quickly accepted the call, holding the phone to his ear and speaking softly as though if he spoke with an urgency, the man on the other end may have shattered.

“Misha…? You okay?” he asked, unable to stop himself from questioning the other man. In truth, he had no idea why he would be calling him so late. There was a sigh of sorts from the other end of the line; one that filled Jensen with simultaneous relief and worry.

“Jensen…can we talk? Please?”

“Yeah, sure.” He said, sitting up in his empty bed and propping himself against the headboard. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just…I’m lonely.”

 

                Jensen had remembered laughing at this point; not boisterous or rude. Just a soft chuckle, which went unnoticed or unmentioned by the other party. It wasn’t one of amusement; it was one of relief. So they talked, later into the night. About life; about why Misha had called him, about anything and everything. The little things, the life changing things… He’d told Jensen that he’d called Vicki a few times, but lately he had been waking her. It had been a last ditch effort to call Jensen in hopes of curbing his loneliness, not wanting to call Jared because everyone knew the kind of shit he pulled on set. He knew it would turn into some kind of joke later on, or Jared might make fun of him. He could take it, sure, but he’d rather have had someone to talk to that _didn’t_ make fun of him, or start jokes on set or with staff about it later.

 

                It wasn’t the last time. Late at night again, when Jensen just happened to be awake again, his phone almost vibrated off the table as the familiar name lit up on the screen. After a while, it became regular. Jensen anticipated the late night phone calls from his co-star, almost craved it. Sometimes they talked for hours, sometimes only a few minutes. Talking to Jensen helped Misha sleep; so that he was not consumed by the loneliness of his dark apartment. They talked about anything and everything and Jensen had no idea how they never ran out of things to talk about. Sometimes it was stupid, and sometimes it was serious. Jensen began to notice a change as the calls continued; a change in himself. The joy and warmth that spread through his being when he heard that ring of his phone, and the all-consuming loneliness he felt in his heart when he ended the call.

 

                He had been there for Misha; to take away the pain of being alone, but now that their secret calls continued, it was as though he’d taken away his co-stars loneliness and inflicted it upon himself. His heart ached; bursting and burning like a flaming sun. At first, for a brief moment, he didn’t understand the attachment he had to him. Then, he _refused_ to understand it. But after a while, it wasn’t just the calls that affected him. It was his very presence, and he frequently had to work with the man. He found himself looking in places he shouldn’t. Gazing in areas that were forbidden and giving him looks so heated they could melt metal. Then he would go back to his apartment, denial washing over him like an ocean to the shore.

 

                But despite his denial, he still craved those phone calls. Not only did he crave them, he depended on him. His fingers itched to call him when he did not do so, and relief flooded through his body when he did. Though sometimes, he would not, and it left Jensen in a dark and lonely apartment, trying to will himself to get some sleep when he realized that Misha wasn’t going to call. The times when they were separated were the worst. When Misha was at home, with his family, but he was still working. Still in his apartment, without Misha or his wife. He used the time to start talking to her more, but he would still find himself calling Misha occasionally to see how he was doing. That was his excuse, anyway. Deep in his heart, he knew it was because he just wanted to hear his voice.

 

                It was a massive relief that shamed Jensen greatly when Misha was with him again. He desired those calls; that closeness that Dean had with Castiel, and said angel’s lack of personal space. His character may have disliked it, but Jensen couldn’t be happier. Then when it seemed that they had gotten closer, so did Misha. Spending his time close to Jensen off-camera, in a physical sense. It got worse; on set, and in public. Conventions, shows and the like. It was downright flirting almost, but Jensen still refused to admit it.

 

                Though the tipping point came one day, when Misha was giving him those fleeting touches and glances that his heart nearly burst. He had the craziest, stupidest thought he’d ever had at that moment; run. Run away with him, right then and there. Leave it all behind and just take him away. But God, was that stupid. He loved his wife, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel the same feelings with Misha as he did with Danneel. God, it was ridiculous and it was sinful but he loved him. Denying it was impossible now; after that stupid thought. It was something he kept pushed to the back of his mind, though - something that the light would never see. But it hurt…unrequited love, and the like. He’d endure those touches and glances; the all too close feeling of Misha’s body against his. The look of glee and warmth upon his visage was real, but so was the pain he felt after it was over. It wasn’t just the fact that it was over, but the fact that he did it with other people. Jensen wasn’t a special case. He felt the burn of jealousy and sadness in his heart when he saw him doing such things to other people.  Ate at his insides like a hungry, angry beast that fed from his agony.

 

                It was different, with him. Misha was reserved in a way. Never really pushing too far with Jensen, unlike a few others. Outright kissing them and acting fairly sexual. Misha never kissed him… Never publicly, never privately. But he never stopped acting the way he did around Jensen; never stopped calling him, and now the phone calls had become something that filled him with such a myriad of emotions. Joy, anxiety, pain… But something started to change again, this time being the man on the other side of the line. His attitude changed slightly; he became more distant, but still kept on their conversations. The night it changed was when Jensen finally asked why Misha didn’t just come over, and Misha cut the conversation short. He mumbled something into the phone before saying he had to go and hung up.

 

                He was distant with him on set for the next few days, and his calls suddenly ceased. Jensen was hurt, but hid it deep down in the dark where no one could see. He had nearly given up when his phone suddenly wrung again. He remembered it clearly; the distinct ring offsetting the sound of the heavy rain outside. He was almost afraid to answer when it read Misha’s name, but he did.

“Misha…?” he asked, hope in his voice.

“Jensen…I need to talk to you about something.”

Jensen swallowed; barely able to get past the lump growing in his voice, before choking out a broken “Yeah?”

 

There was a sudden click on the other end of the phone, and for a brief moment a sense of panic spread through his body. It was replaced by confusion when there was a knock at his door, to which he opened and found his very wet co-star standing there, holding his phone. He put his phone into his pocket once Jensen answered the door, and for a moment the two just looked at each other. Jensen wasn’t quite sure how he looked, but he could tell Misha looked vaguely upset. Sad, like he was longing for something.

 

Jensen opened his mouth to speak, but Misha suddenly invaded his space. Pushing his body close and gripping the sides of Jensne’s face as he forced his lips against his. It took his breath away; left him stunned and unmoving as Misha’s lips worked against his. It was when Misha began to pull away that Jensen reacted, gripping him and pulling him close. He was wet, dampening the front of Jensen’s pajamas but he didn’t care. All the cold and wetness in the world couldn’t pry the two of them apart. There were about a thousand things running through his mind at the moment; the sense of betrayal, elation, guilt… Too many to list, all melding together and sending his brain into a frenzy.

 

There was almost no pacing; it was rough and passionate. Their tongues joining, the appendages sliding along each other in a delicious slick sensation. Jensen noted the taste of him; mint and the distinct taste of what he assumed to be just…Misha.  His fingers were tangled in the damp, dark mass atop the other man’s head, other hand roaming everywhere he could. He noted all of it; every curve, every dip, everything about his body. He wanted to know it; all of it, if that was the only thing he could have. Using his other arm, he pulled him close, gripping the wet fabric tightly until his body was tightly against his. He had never had him so close. Close enough to know the feel of his body and how it fit so well against his.

 

Everything inside of him burned with desire…need…arousal. It was such a shameful thing, but he wanted him so badly right then. In more ways than just companionship, or someone for conversation. He wanted _all_ of him. A thousand things inside him told him he shouldn’t do this, while a thousand more told him he should, and he could not say no when he felt Misha’s hands come to the hem of his shirt. Slipping beneath it, pulling the dampened fabric away from his heated skin. A cool rush of air hitting him then, contrast to the fire that burned in his veins.

 

Arousal and desire took away his reason, and he found himself leading Misha into the apartment while his lips remained locked as long as he could. He found himself on the bed with him; once again, but this time physically. It was the place that they’d talked so many times before, and Misha had no idea. They stripped slowly, as Jensen removed Misha’s damp clothes and Misha removed his pants. Naked, writhing against each other with roaming hands and kiss-swollen lips. Skin to skin, both hot and burning and it was almost _unbearable._

 

His lips drew away from Misha’s, moving downward and leaving kisses in places he’d never dreamed he’d do. Touching places he’d thought once impossible to touch. Fingers trailing his most delicate places; surrounded and encompassed by the heat of his body’s internal workings. Working them through his passage and listening to the delightful sounds he made in response. His digits soon replaced by a much more sensitive appendage. Seated upon his lap, Jensen moved inside of him, and it was like lighting a spark. No light shined brighter than Misha did at that moment. Shining through the darkness as they danced a dance of sin and utter pleasure. It was like a fire had been lit in them; smoldering embers bursting into full flame. Misha’s hands roamed his body as Jensen held him tight, and he could feel the smaller male’s fingers gripping at his back, nails scraping his flesh. A pleasant sting of pain to mix with undeniable pleasure.

 

And for a moment that seemed far too brief, they were one. Moving in tandem with each other, breathing each other’s air and simply existing for one another in that moment. Moving and stimulating until the fire burst into an explosion. Bringing the both of them to climax, fueling his lust hearing Misha call his name out between breathless moans and mewls as he released a useless, life giving fluid into his body. His body fell lax as Misha leaned against him, but he refused to let him go. Holding tightly until the two of them shifted, and the older male fell asleep in his arms.

 

It wasn’t until later that he was awoken by a stirring, and he found his co-star attempting to leave. He said nothing, only watched as Misha gathered his things and started to head from his bedroom door.

“Misha…” he said, trying to choke out the words from the lump forming in his throat. “We could make this work…”

The older man only stared at him briefly; sadness evident on his visage before he slipped out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving Jensen in that all-consuming loneliness that he had begun to feel after the phone calls had started. He watched him leave, again, but this time it was all the more painful.

 

                It made sense, that Jensen would be drawn to him like a moth to flame. Just like everyone else, but like most people, he could never truly have him. That night he really cried, more than he had in a long time, and he wondered to himself if Misha did care for him more than just a friend, or had he been used? In his heart he had the suspicion that it wasn’t just a one night stand. Misha may have loved him, but he was unwilling to try, and so Jensen would have to sit by on the sidelines. Continue to work with him, despite the ache in his heart…But he would get through it.

 


End file.
